The Plan
by stephanieflautist
Summary: 'If anyone had asked me in this moment, what had happened to lead up to this, I would have told them the truth.'  Jesse's POV on his relationship with Rachel from the start to finish.


Disclaimer: Everything in this belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox not me.

* * *

If anyone had asked me in this moment, standing rooted to the spot with an egg in the palm of my hand, what had happened to lead up to this; what thoughts were going through my head; what exactly had gone wrong; I would have told them the truth. I wouldn't have bothered with a well-rehearsed lie, I would have told them the whole story, from the start to finish because at the beginning of the plan, it had all seemed so simple, except in hindsight it really wasn't.

* * *

My long-time coach had asked me, her oh-so-loyal student to grant her a favor and I had agreed like the oh-so-loyal student I was.

The plan, to seduce -or befriend was the word she may have used- her daughter Rachel Berry, gain her trust, then convince her that she: a) not only yearned for the mother she never had, but b) should also try to find this mother. Whether she'd actually wanted this or not, I hadn't been so sure at the time, but that hadn't mattered because Shelby had put her trust in me to carry out her crazy plan and what Shelby wanted, Shelby got. Besides it's not like I had really cared about her wants or needs anyway, she was just some girl.

The first time I had actually seen Rachel Berry was when Shelby and I'd gone to Sectionals two weeks earlier to scope out the competition. The first two groups had been excruciating to bear witness to. Group number one –a club jam-packed full of over-confident, high-pitched petty criminals –made their first mistake by actually believing they could sing Jennifer Hudson, without coming across as sad Miley Cyrus fans sitting alone in their rooms, daring to expand their musical horizons by belting _I Dreamed A Dream_ from _Les Miserables_ and failing to hit every single note.

As if that hadn't painful enough, they'd then set a new all time low by rolling out onto the stage in wheelchairs -wheelchairs!– and proceed to butcher _Proud Mary_, a once pleasurable song to listen to. I had been so disgusted and horrified that I'd stood up from my chair to leave, before feeling Shelby's hand immediately grab my shirt telling me to sit my ass down.

The second group, I hadn't been so sure how to feel about. I mean sure, listening to them sing _Don't Stop Believin'_ had been the longest three minutes of my life -and I may have winced every time one of the 'performers' opened their mouth– but it just didn't feel right to criticize a deaf show choir, I'm sure that there's like an unspoken rule about it. On the other hand it _was_ a singing competition and quite frankly they'd had no business being there.

Their next two numbers had been no less painful to listen to as the first one had been, and I had found myself rolling my eyes every time I saw someone crying about 'how incredibly moving' the whole thing was, basically all of that sentimental crap that I'd never bothered concerning myself with.

I'd thanked God when their performance finished and I would only be forced to watch one more show choir fail at being performers spectacularly.

When the opening notes to _Don't Rain On My Parade_ had begun to sound, I admit I had been a little more than mildly horrified and had been expecting a pitchy, tone-death screecher to appear onstage and make me lose whatever respect in humanity I'd had left.

Instead I had gotten a petite, brunette ingénue burst out from the back of the theatre and make her way down the aisle with a flirtatious grin and a voice that could rival my own, or perhaps that was being a little too generous, let me clarify, she was good, like unbelievingly good, but I was still better. Her performance was far from perfect, but with that being said, at the time I still couldn't help but imagine how our voices would sound together and wish that I had the opportunity to find out.

It was obvious that she had been improvising the choreography, as it mainly consisted of her sauntering up and down the pathway with the spotlight following her, until she finally walked –or rather pranced– onto the stage with just as much energy and vigor as she'd had throughout the entirety of the song.

_I'll march my band out._

Her teammates had then made their way down the aisle to join her onstage. I remember that my mouth had formed an almost-comical 'O' as she'd held the last note perfectly, knowing as I had stared entranced, that I had to see this girl again.

When the music had stopped, she introduced the group 'New Directions' to the audience. They'd begun to sing _You Can't Always Get What You Want,_ which had been okay –I'd still been in shock and awe of the last performance to have too much interest in this one – until the male lead had opened his mouth and sung in his clearly untrained 90's rock voice that clashed with the rest of the choir. His voice hadn't exactly been bad, but it wasn't good either, it was just kind of mediocre. He'd lacked restraint and failed to hit several high notes, he was in serious need of a vocal coach if this club wanted to make it to Nationals.

In the middle of that number, I'd begun to lose interest; I'd chosen that moment to finally turn my head and look at Shelby who I had forgotten was even there. When I did, I had been shocked to see that her eyes were watery and she was staring at the girl I had been so enraptured with just moments ago with something akin to longing and amazement in her eyes.

"Coach?" I'd asked uncertainly.

She'd whipped her head around quickly to face me, clearly startled, before masking the emotions from her face under a stony, cool exterior.

"What?" She'd snapped irately and I'd known that she was in no state of mind to consider explaining her strange reaction to seeing the pseudo-Streisand, she was probably too pissed at my interruption from whatever thoughts were running through her mind.

"Are you okay?" I remember asking her slowly, testing her reaction as if she was an angry cat that might pounce and attack at any moment.

"I'm _fine_, just watch the damn performance and keep your mouth shut," _yes, definitely pissed,_ I'd thought to myself before complying.

The rest of that day isn't even important enough to bother reciting. New Directions had won –big surprise there– and Shelby and I hadn't acknowledged what had happened at Sectionals until two weeks later, when she'd approached me after rehearsals and revealed that the girl was Rachel Berry, her daughter and I was going to bring the two together.

All I'd really known about the spawn of Shelby Corcoran was her date of birth, the fact that she was Jewish, her high school and that –judging by the amount of solos she'd had at Sectionals– she was the female lead of her glee club. Nothing that would really help me carry out Shelby's plan. I hadn't known any of her interests -although I'd been able to guess– I hadn't known the type of people she hung around with –it turned out practically no one at all, she wasn't particularly popular– I hadn't known where she'd liked to hang out, I hadn't known anything of importance really.

That's why I'd had to do a little research. I'd asked around about her to anyone and everyone. I hadn't had much luck at first mainly because virtually no one knew her. When I did find people that knew her, they'd mostly said the same thing. She'd had a squeaky-clean reputation, but she had also been an eccentric, bossy, determined to be right, missus holier-than-thou diva.

From the information that I'd gathered, I'd been able to tell that she was the type that hung around in music libraries. I'd spend my days at the one in her local district, waiting patiently for her to show up, until finally, one day as I was sifting through the pages of a Freddie Mercury biography, I'd looked up to see my assignment -you could call her- already there and completely engrossed in a book on Lionel Richie.

I hadn't wasted any time and marched determinedly up to the sophomore, revealed myself and informed her that, yes, I did know who she was. Although my initial plan had been to be positively charming, the inner-critic in me still hadn't been able to hold back my review of her performance at Sectionals, I'm sure that I'd slipped in a compliment somewhere there –however backhanded it may have been– because her rendition had still been impressive, it just could have been improved.

Although I hadn't initially intended to, while we were having a mainly one-sided conversation, I'd remembered my desire at Sectionals to have a chance to sing with her. The spontaneous side in me had taken over when I'd suggested that we try out probably one of the most romantic love songs that I knew.

Just as I'd suspected, our voices had blended perfectly together –better than mine did with the other female members of Vocal Adrenaline in fact– and considering it was spur of the moment and completely unrehearsed, our version of the ballad was, by my high standards, near-perfect –not perfect though because there is _always_ room for improvement.

I remember that when I'd asked her out and she'd looked at me like I was the Romeo to her Juliet, the thought that I'd had in my mind was, seducing her would be like taking candy from a baby.

My warning bells really should have sounded though when I had actually found her insecurities to be slightly endearing instead of completely nauseating.

At the beginning of our relationship, I had been mostly amused by all of the little quirks and traits that were uniquely Rachel Berry, like when she had shown up in the Carmel High auditorium and had more or less told the thin air, that she carried a rape whistle.

When I'd stepped out of the shadows to reveal myself to her, she had in return shown me the weaker, younger side of herself, asking me to reveal any ulterior motives I had and telling me of the heartbreak this would cause her, and as I've said, this should have been an immediate turn-off, vulnerability like that had no right to be flattering, yet on her it was.

Maybe her innocence is what I had found so interesting about her. I'd never dated a girl quite like Rachel Berry before so not always knowing what to expect from her had had it's appeal.

And it was only expected that I had eventually wanted to test the virgin waters and see what she hid underneath those ridiculously short skirts, hey I was still a guy.

So when after our first date, she had mentioned that her dads weren't home so we'd have the house completely to ourselves, I had understandably jumped at the opportunity to enter the no man's land.

Even as she'd predictably sprung the virginity card on me, I'd still been determined to have my way.

I had told her, "It's no big deal," because it wasn't. Girls over time had seemed to fall under this delusion that their first time is going to be such an amazing, life-altering, wondrous experience, when in reality, for most it will be forty minutes tops of discomfort, painfully evident inexperience and general awkwardness –less if their partner had early arrival problems like most of the teenage male population.

I think that my annoyance at her flat-out refusal to sleep with me was justifiable; I had been working my ass off to make this family reunion happen so I hadn't seen at the time why I shouldn't get a little something-something out of it.

But even as I'd driven home, I'd realized that leaving the way that I had was not going to help me accomplish the task that I had been set, so only days later I was delivering a heartfelt apology which because of the guilt that I'd eventually felt was also mostly sincere.

For the record I'd like to state that it was cruel of her to let me believe that she was ready to take the next step in the relationship, only to crush my hopes when-push-came-to-shove. It's just inconsiderate to leave someone high and dry like the way that she did, but I had just sat there and taken it, acting the part of the caring and understanding boyfriend so well that I'd nearly believed it myself.

I'm still not able to pinpoint the exact moment when I had started to like my assignment a little more than I should have.

Although maybe it wasn't an exact moment, but a merely series of little ones that had built up over time and had made me form a certain fondness of Rachel, such as my enjoyment at seeing what new, eccentric outfit she wore to school –after I'd transferred to McKinley, as per Shelby's orders– each day, watching the numerous faces she pulled whilst she sung, listening to her incessant ramblings about musical theatre, skating with her at the roller-rink and so many more moments we had shared that had seemed so genuine and meaningful, that they had to have been real.

That's why I had been so angry with her when I first viewed her bad reputation video. Not just because the whole thing was downright humiliating –although that was certainly a contributing factor- but because I realized while watching, that not only was I at least slightly affronted by her manipulating and going behind my back, but she had made me care enough about her to feel my first pang of jealousy. Not that I had never felt jealous before, but only ever to do with someone being giving a solo that was clearly better for me or anything else to do with performing, never to do with a _girl_ of all things. Girls were constantly doing anything to get me to give them the time of day. I'd always had them wrapped around my finger, being able to convince them to do almost anything I wanted, and up until the 'Run Joey Run' incident, Rachel had been no different.

The funny thing was though, when I'd first seen Puck appear on the screen, I had been surprised but not angry. I had known how much the project meant to Rachel, I had assumed that she merely decided Puck would be a better fit for the part and had altered the video at the last minute. At the most, I had felt slight annoyance that she hadn't informed me of the switch but there had been no jealousy. Even though Puck was a player who would sleep with just about anyone, I'd known that Rachel didn't even like him that much and would never cheat on me with him, although I'd shuddered to think what Puck would have tried to get her to do when they were alone filming the video.

My suspicions had flared though when I saw myself appear on the screen, _but maybe she felt bad and squeezed me in at the end to make it up to me_, I'd tried to convince myself. My fears had been confirmed though when Finn Hudson had replaced me on the screen, Rachel's intentions had become all to clear. She wanted to be rid of her innocent, wholesome reputation and what better way is there than to appear to have not one, not two, but _three_ guys pining after her. I would have admired her spunk under different circumstances.

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming; I'd known that it was only a matter of time before something like that happened between her and Finn. Her feelings for him may have been subtle enough that I could ignore them but _his_ however were not.

Not that any of this really mattered anymore, I had more or less gotten even when I went to San Diego for Spring Break and had drunkenly hooked-up with my dance partner, waking up with a mean hangover and a feeling of vindication the next day.

When I'd arrived back in Ohio, I had immediately found a text from Shelby telling me to come to see her once I was back. A tape was handed to me the moment I'd stepped into her office; no pleasantries exchanged, just a pointed look and a short but clear order of "You know what to do."

And I had, even when Rachel had panicked, sending me out of her room uttering that she wasn't ready and that it was all happening too fast, I had still found a way. My method may have been forceful but it was effective, and I had also known that she would be okay afterwards, so I felt that that justified it.

Waiting in my car while she listened to the tape had felt so long and monotonous that after only fifteen minutes I had decided to see how she was, surely the tape couldn't have gone for that long anyway.

I'd left her front door slightly ajar rather than closing it, knowing that I would be coming back to check on her, thanking God as I did so that her dads weren't home to interrupt.

I'd found her sitting in her chair, head down, not making a sound whilst tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn't even noticed me coming in, only looking up when I'd said her name tentatively. I hadn't bothered to ask her if she was okay –that would've been a stupid question- instead I'd picked her up, brought her over to lay down on the bed with me and held her tightly in my arms as she'd cried.

It was the closest I'd ever felt to Rachel before and in that moment I had realized, much to my dismay, that I would miss her once I was back at Carmel. We'd stayed that way for a few hours not speaking, just basking in the other's presence until she'd mumbled into my shirt that her dads would be home soon and that it was probably time for me to go.

She'd thanked me for being such a good boyfriend –her words, not mine- and I'd responded by kissing her chastely on the forehead and saying that I would see her in school the next day, knowing full well that it would be the last time I'd walk down the halls of McKinley High, eat lunch with her in the cafeteria and sit with my arm draped around her shoulders in glee club. My mission was done; I'd had no business there anymore.

Vocal Adrenaline had welcomed me back with only slight reluctance and we'd immediately jumped back into rehearsals. They hadn't asked what I had been doing at McKinley. Shelby had informed them that I was getting inside information on the competition and did not want to be questioned about it.

Only a week later, Rachel had shown up at practice and in her true dramatic style, informed Shelby that she was her daughter in front of all of us. She was either oblivious or uncaring to my teammates and I gawking at her in our costumes -which I'd been thankful covered our faces so she wouldn't see me.

I remember wondering if she'd thought about me since she had listened to that tape or was curious as to why I hadn't called her and wasn't at school. I'd come to the conclusion that she had felt awkward about our last encounter seeing as she hadn't made any effort to contact me either.

Shelby had almost immediately called off rehearsals for the day after that, sending us home where I refused to allow myself to think about how Rachel's disregard of our relationship had bothered me or how the pair's encounter would go, it wasn't my concern anymore.

I didn't allow myself to dwell on this too much and in no time at all I had found myself standing in the McKinley High auditorium only this time with my teammates. I had coldly informed Rachel of my return to Carmel and my true team, relishing in finally being able to tell the rest of New Directions what I'd thought of them.

Our funkification had seemed to work perfectly and I'd refused to allow myself to feel any guilt whatsoever, even as I felt Rachel's disbelieving eyes boring into my back as I followed my teammates out of the auditorium, or as we covered their choir room from top to bottom in toilet paper. _She would get over it,_ I had thought, _she would get over me, _is more like it.

I'd known that New Directions was in for more trouble when all of our Range Rovers were targeted in retaliation. I was all for it as well -no one messes with my car and gets away with it- until I'd found out _who_ our new target would be.

I had tried to convince the others that this was going to far, that we should target Hudson and Puckerman, the ones responsible for the damage to our cars –which had already been fixed- but they were adamant that targeting their star would hurt more. So I hadn't argued, they'd had a point and trying to convince them otherwise would raise suspicion that I might actually like her. I just couldn't have that, so I went along with their plan not thinking twice about it.

* * *

Now though, standing here in the McKinley High parking lot with an egg grasped firmly in the palm of my hand, standing a few feet away from the girl I'd been with for such a short time, but still seemed to have so much history with, I _was_ starting to think twice about what I was doing.

Briefly in the back of my mind, I registered the voice of one of my teammates egging me on, "Do it, Jesse," she says.

I take slow but determined strides towards Rachel until I'm standing right in front of her. I remove all traces of guilt and misery, that I'm sure must have been apparent on my face just seconds ago, and hide them under an unsympathetic, stoic façade – I was always good at this, hiding my emotions, never letting people know what I was really thinking, feeling – but when she tells me to, "Do it, break it like you broke my heart," I almost –just for a fraction of a second– let it slip. Because I wasn't prepared for that, I wasn't prepared for her contempt, for the appearance of her not caring what I did next, for the challenge in her eyes, daring me to do it, egging me on like my teammates had.

When I tell her, "I loved you," it's not a complete lie. I did love her, as much as a selfish, ruthless and determined to be famous eighteen-year-old like me can love a girl like Rachel Berry, who knows, maybe I still do, but in this moment I hate her just a bit as well. This was supposed to be easy, I was supposed to be able to carry on with my life without giving her a spare thought, but somehow she made me start to like all of those stupid little things about her that should have annoyed me to no end, she had made me care about her.

So with those thoughts in mind, I raise my hand to her forehead and do what I have to do. For the second that I take to look at her once it's done, I can see nothing but hurt and betrayal -not even bothered to be concealed- in her eyes, I can practically hear the mantra in her head saying, _don't cry, don't cry_, and I'm proud of her for keeping some of her dignity and not showing weakness.

As I'm driving away form McKinley, I let myself glance at her through the rearview mirror but she isn't looking at me –or anyone else or that matter. She's still standing in the spot that we left her, shoulders slumped forward, head facing the ground, dismayed, defeated, lost and I allow myself to feel the guilt full-force that I had promised myself I would not feel.

I'm thankful that each member of Vocal Adrenaline has their own car and that I'm not forced to spent the car-ride with one of my teammates, because I'm not sure that I would be able to keep pretending that I'd wanted to do this, that I didn't care about the hurt that I'd just inflicted upon someone I actually care about, I just needed to let myself feel what I was really feeing for once.

I allowed myself the time to reflect on all of this for the rest of the drive, until finally, I was home.

* * *

The week leading up to Regionals is spent polishing each and every piece to perfection at all hours of the day until finally, my teammates and I are sitting in our dressing room, waiting to take the regional title.

Whilst most are pacing anxiously or warming up their vocal chords for the umpteenth time, I'm simply sitting back watching in amusement. I know that my performance is going to be spectacular; I don't need to warm up.

I can tell that some of them are still fazed by New Directions' attempt to funkify us; I admit that even I was for a few days, but that feeling had quickly passed.

After another minute of mindless observation, I decide that a quick walk is in order to clear my head before we go onstage to perform, it's not because I'm hoping to catch a peek of a certain brunette's performance or anything.

As I get closer to the entrance of the theatre, I start to hear the sound of what is most definitely Rachel Berry singing a Journey ballad with one Finn Hudson. Of course she would be singing a duet with that tone death giant when never mind someone like Noah Puckerman could probably sing it better, anyone, just someone else besides that Neanderthal.

Maybe I'm a tad bitter, but I have every right to be. I don't think people quite understand just how nauseating it was to see my girlfriend and her ex pining after each other like lovesick puppies right before my eyes. I mean, yes my motives for being with her in the first place were a tad shifty but still, it's the principle of the thing. Rachel was my girlfriend so therefore other guys - or namely one guy - were meant to get the hint to back off and stay away from my girl.

Or maybe my bitterness is stemmed from the fact that Finn doesn't actually sound _bad_ singing the duet, he's pulling it off at least. Although you could chalk it up to the fact that it's Rachel singing with him, yes of course, that's the reason, because in what universe does Finn Hudson actually stand a chance at Regionals on his own? The mere thought is laughable.

Before I can continue analyzing their performance, I hear the opening notes to yet another Journey song –so they're doing a medley– and I finally push open the door to the theatre and stand at the very end of the aisle to watch New Directions perform.

They're doing a more upbeat number now, and what it lacks severely in choreography, it makes up for in energy and vocals. For the most part, I'm just surprised that Rachel still manages to look alluring in that ridiculous, almost spacesuit-esque gold dress she's wearing.

I can tell that the crowd is enjoying it almost as much as I am, well at least, that is the case for me, until Rachel and Finn come together, and I can see for myself the way that they look at each other, the way that he stares loving down at her, holding her tight in his arm and swaying in-beat to the music –as that is what the choreography calls for –just like I used to be able to.

It's obvious by the way she grins sheepishly as he does so – still singing her part flawlessly I might add – that she reciprocates his feelings.

I don't stay to watch the rest of their performance.

* * *

Epic. It's the only word that can truly describe our rendition – or namely my rendition – of _Bohemian Rhapsody_. There is not one single fault in the whole performance – from the dancing, to the harmonies, to the leading vocals – it is completely perfect and I know even before we finish the song, that we are going to win. Not that I didn't know before, but this was just the icing on the already delicious cake.

I give everything I have into this piece, having found inspiration from watching Rachel and Finn together, to portray exactly what emotion is needed in the song.

I go through the motions, never missing a single note or faltering over a step -I am a pro after all- not even when I spot _her_ watching us from the back of the theatre, in the same place I had been not too long ago, doing the exact thing she is now.

_So you think you can love me and leave me to die._

I direct this at her and even though she is staring at me cold and steely-eyed, I know that she understands what I'm doing. The lyrics, I'm aware can work both ways for us and they might not even be completely accurate for our situation, but I feel that this still conveys how I feel about how everything has turned out.

I can tell by her change in stance, the careful look around the room and the softening of her eyes that she is starting to become uncomfortable, but I still sing to her -even as she is turning her back to me- the final words of the song that seem so fitting.

_Nothing really matters, anyone can see, nothing really maters, nothing really maters to me._

Because at the end of our epic romance, for now at least, this was how it had to be.

* * *

As I'm being hoisted into the air by my teammates – novelty large trophy in hand – I stare at Rachel Berry's crestfallen face. I promise myself that we will meet again in the future, away from ex-boyfriends, plots of family reunions and broken promises, where our love-story stands a fighting chance.

* * *

A/N: This has been in the process of being written for about a month, it probably would have been quicker but I'm really lazy and this is like 5000 words long. Reviews are loved, no adored, no worshipped, so I think my point has been made and I hope you enjoyed this.


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